Fiction: Genie
Nov. 4th, 2011 08:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kethniName: Genie
Pairing: Matt/Mohinder
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Random evil scientists
Word Count: Approximately 4500
Authors Note:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
leadaisy who prompted: After cash landing his capsule on a deserted beach, Astronaut Captain Matt Parkman finds a genie bottle and gives it a rub :P The genie, Mohinder, pops out and instantly falls in love with Matt and is grateful for his new Master.
However, back at NASA one of the evil scientist people find out about Genie!Mohinder and capture him in his bottle. They take Captain Parkman hostage and tie him up to get information from him. Unable to get out of his bottle, Genie!Mohinder can’t free his Master and the tied up Captain can’t free the genie. What will become of our heroes?
Alarms pulse amber, red, and purple as sirens scream and shred the air. The capsule tumbles dreamily from the sky turning over and over like a paper plane toyed with by the breeze. Showers of sparks trail like a bridal train as the capsule drifts down towards the tranquil sand and the sullen sea surrounding it. As the sea draws near the pilot listens to the music of disaster and finds a different beat.
In the warm and drowsy confines of his comfortable prison the genie awakes at the terrible percussion. The genie runs across the floor and presses his tiny ear to the smooth surface. He listens to the petulant tide as it rides up the beach, the distant calls of circling seabirds, and finally he hears a human voice. He closes his eyes and wishes that there were a god of genies to whom he could pray that he will soon be owned again.
Captain Parkman disentangles himself from the loving embrace of the slowly sinking capsule and wades through the sluggish waves to reach the beach. His head rings with the echoes of the sirens and ghostly afterimages of the alarms: portents he has been trained to keep in their place when working but which will haunt his dreams. He drags himself up to the beach and sinks to his knees in the soft, white sand. He’s too exhausted, too elated, too worn, and too terrified to do anything but pray and curse and cry.
Mohinder Suresh Thrice Blessed Genie of the Magic Pool is sure that the voice is male. There may have been deeper or more beautiful voices but no longer to Mohinder. He hears joyfully this male voice that is so close. This man he hopes to soon call master.
Matt leans back upon his heels and casts his gaze about the vista. Serene azure skies stretch down until they meet the sea without land or ships or planes to trouble it. He knows that the capsule transmitted coordinates as it came down but for now and the foreseeable future he is entirely alone. Matt shimmies from his flight suit and looks around the tiny desert island on which he finds himself. There are several stunted trees under which he can shelter and an abundance of clean, white sand, and little else. Matt traverses the entire island in a few moments with his feet sinking in the soft sand until, to his surprise, he strikes glass.
The width and breath of Mohinder’s world is shaken as the bottle is pried from its resting place of a hundred years. He clings to the curved wall of darkened glass and wishes, and wishes that the bottle be opened. The wishes of genies are unheard and unanswered. They who grant wishes must also realise their own dreams and desires while hiding them from their owners. After a hundred years of loneliness Mohinder is minded to be pliant and personable but please, oh please, let his new master be kind.
The bottle in Matt’s hands is rimed with sand and age. The smoky glass warms his hands and the worn engraving shimmers in the sun. Matt pries off the lid and then, before he completes his thought, he rubs a little rime from the bottle the better to read the engraved words. He rubs a little sand away and then a little more and then, quite at once, there is another man stood in front of him.
‘Jesus!’
‘Oh no, he was much taller than I am and his hair was redder…’
The air falls still as they stand silently before Mohinder tries again with the words he hasn’t spoken in a hundred years.
‘Your wish is my command, Master. I am Mohinder, the genie of the bottle and I am yours to command.’
Mohinder kisses his new master and drinks in the scent of his skin. Mohinder would sing to the sky if he could. A master! He has a new master; a master as handsome as the finest Arabian horse and with eyes as warm as a kiss. His clothing is odd to Mohinder’s eyes but he looks strong and well fed. Perhaps he is rich then. Mohinder would hope not; he would sooner be a poor man’s slave than a rich man’s plaything. A slave is needed and would not be discarded at a whim.
‘I’m sorry. I think I bumped my head,’ Matt says weakly.
‘Sit down, Master, please?’ Mohinder says solicitously. ‘I will take care of you.’
Matt sinks down but finds instead of the sand that he is settling onto something firm but comfortable.
‘Uh… where did this chair come from?’
‘I made it for you, Master,’ Mohinder says, kneeling in from of him. ‘How may I make you happy?’
Matt focuses his confused gaze on the beautiful man in front of him. ‘I think I’m concussed. I’m hallucinating.’
‘Oh, did you hurt your head, Master? Shall I make ice to soothe it?’
‘I knew before I went up in the capsule that I might not come back. Blowing up on the launch pad would be embarrassing, dying during flight would’ve been less than great but… it happens, but surviving the crash and then dying of a concussion? I’ll never live that down.’ He smiles vaguely. ‘Damn but you’re gorgeous. If you’re imaginary then my imagination is far nicer to me than I deserve.’
Mohinder grins a bright and beautiful smile. Master thinks he’s gorgeous! His master thinks he’s gorgeous! His master.
‘You are not dying, Master, and I am not a false vision.’ Mohinder presses his hand to Matt’s forehead.
‘There now, do you not feel better?’
‘Maybe it’s an intracranial bleed. Is one of my pupils bigger than the other?’
‘Your eyes are perfect, Master,’ Mohinder promises, gazing up at Matt adoringly. He holds up a small mirror for Matt to look into.
‘Helpful sort aren’t you?’ Matt says blearily. ‘I must’ve really banged my head. I don’t remember.’
‘What may I do to make you happy, Master?’
‘Can you make a ship appear to rescue me? Because that’d be amazing.’ Matt rests his chin in his palm as he gazes at the genie. ‘What did you say your name was?’
‘My name is Mohinder, Master, I am your genie. Master, the ship approaches. Should I go into my bottle that you may bring me with you?’
‘What?’ Matt lifts his gaze and finds a ship suddenly heaving against the stubborn waves.
‘Master, other men might try to steal me from you,’ Mohinder says urgently. ‘Will you not take the bottle with you so I might accompany you?’
Matt stands up as a boat floats free from the ship. There’s no need to be rude, he thinks, even to figments of my imagination. So he picks up the bottle and holds it fast.
‘I won’t let it out of my sight.’
Mohinder smiles and kisses, kisses, kisses him. When Matt opens his eyes once more the genie is nowhere to be seen. But he keeps his word and takes the bottle with him as he climbs into the boat.
The doctor examines Matt thoroughly and conscientiously, checking his scalp, head, and eyes thrice and proclaiming each time that he is healthy. This would be reassuring were it not for the silent and weighty presence of the genie’s bottle. It is about a foot high and at its base about eight inches across. The glass is thick and solid, no flimsy receptacle this. The glass is deep green, too dark to see through, and covered in engravings of birds, beasts, and beautiful creatures for which Matt has no name. Nothing that Matt can see engraved bears a resemblance to the young genie in his skimpy, silken trousers and bare chest. A glory of the imagination he didn’t think he had. What a shame, he thinks, we cannot record hallucinations forever. But a treacherous part of him, the part that pokes him in the back and tells him he’s been bad, wonders why he would conjure a man so apparently submissive. He does not dare to uncork the bottle and rub it, for fear the genie will appear, or for fear of a crueller fate: that he does not. Instead he sketches the smiling face as well as he is able and then sleeps and dreams instead.
That night as the slumbering ship swoops and dives through the tumultuous sea, the bottle is knocked upon the floor. It lands with an inelegant thud but fails to awaken Matt from his slumbers. As it rolls over the cracked and broken backed floorboards the cork is caught on the corner of the desk, and is pulled loose.
A genie must appear when their lamp or ring or bottle is rubbed by human hand. All children know this. What is not so widely known is that, provided their egress is not impeded, genies may come and go from their places of power as they will.
Mohinder stretches in the darkness and smiles in the moonlight. He has not been left, abandoned on the island, and he has not been paraded in front of jackals and unworthy men. His master remains his master. His master is worthy of him. His master is dozing on the cot. A tiny, uncomfortable thing entirely unsuitable for the comfort of his master. His master is dreaming, Mohinder can see, of something vast and nameless and terrible.
Matt’s nightmare dissolves into warmth as fingertips tease their way across his flesh and a tongue tastes the salt of his skin. He finds himself easing onto his back as lips lick down his stomach and nails graze lightly at his sides.
‘What…’ he looks down as Mohinder takes him into his mouth. ‘Oh oh…’
Mohinder looks up and smiles beatifically.
Briefing, debriefing, examinations, tests, interviews: Matt endures them all with weary acquiescence and mounting anxiety to reach home and open the bottle. He carries it with him throughout them all, clutched in his hand or tucked under an armpit, refusing to let it out of his sight. When he finally reaches his home he puts it carefully on the floor, removes the cork, and wonders what he hopes for.
‘Boo!’ Mohinder whispers from behind him. ‘Hello Master.’ He steps forward and kisses Matt. ‘Thank you for bringing me home with you.’
‘Um, you’re welcome. It wasn’t exactly a big thing…’ Matt shrugs. ‘I’m not sure what the etiquette is here. I’ve never met a genie before. Is it rude to ask if you’re a hallucination? Although why you’d know when I don’t know…’
‘I am not a… hallucination, Master, I am your genie. What is your wish?’
‘Uh… I don’t really have any.’ Matt scratches his head. ‘Do you eat? I thought maybe we could have a nice meal and you can… tell me all about being a genie.’
‘You wish to eat with me, Master? I’m your slave!’
‘Whoa, no. No. There’s no… slavery going on,’ Matt says more sharply than he means. ‘That’s not the way things work in this country. We don’t have slaves. We used to have slaves but that was before my family came over here so, you know, we never had slaves.’
‘But you are my Master and I am your genie!’ Mohinder wails.
‘Hey, come on.’ Matt awkwardly pulls Mohinder into his arms and pats his back. ‘I don’t have a problem with… role play type things, and if you want to call me master, well okay. But if you’re a genie then really you’re the one with all the power.’
Mohinder breathes in the subtle scent of Matt’s skin and his body burns in the heat of him. ‘I have no power, Master.’
‘You’re a genie,’ Matt laughs. ‘You can do all kinds of magic. I’m glad you don’t seem to be one of those genies who deliberately misinterprets every wish into something horrific. You’re not, are you?’
‘Not with a kind and caring master such as you,’ Mohinder says sweetly. ‘Master, what is the purpose of this stance?’
Matt, who is still considering Mohinder’s choice of caveat, laughs a little. ‘It’s a hug. A cuddle. Don’t you do this?’
‘Not before.’ Mohinder rests his head on Matt’s shoulder. ‘It feels pleasant. Ought I to be doing something?’
‘Not really,’ Matt says giving Mohinder a squeeze and letting him go.
‘I liked that,’ he says with twinkling eyes, ‘yet I enjoyed last night the best.’
‘I was asleep,’ Matt protests weakly. ‘It was a little naughty.’
‘Master could have said “no” or “stop” at any moment. I had not covered his mouth or similar.’
Matt finds his words catching in his mouth. ‘Well that’s… that’s true.’
‘Did Master not enjoy himself?’ Mohinder asks, batting his eyes.
‘Yeah, I mean, yeah it was great.’
Mohinder smiles and kisses Matt’s forehead. ‘I shall prepare a feast for us then, as you wished.’
‘It doesn’t have to be a feast,’ Matt says meekly. ‘There are people starving in Africa.’
Mohinder raises his eyebrows. ‘Persons starving elsewhere means that Master cannot feast?’
‘No I… I guess I’d feel guilty. I know that doesn’t make much sense.’
Mohinder considers this for a moment. Then he folds his arms and blinks. ‘There,’ he says with a satisfied smile, ‘now Master has no cause for guilt.’
‘Oh God, what did you do? You didn’t kill a bunch of people did you?’
‘I do not think that would reduce your feelings of guilt.’ Mohinder kisses him. ‘Trust me. Now you may feast happily.’
‘What did you do? Should I be scared?’
‘I am your genie, Master. It is my purpose to make your happy. You need never be scared of me,’ Mohinder promises.
In the early morning light of the yawning sun, Mohinder sits cross-legged upon the bed and watches Matt dress.
‘Master, why do you not return to bed and enjoy me?’
Matt’s cheeks flush cherry red. ‘I have to go to work.’
‘Why? I could make you king of the country. I could make you the king of any country.’
Matt turns and smiles at the genie. ‘I don’t want to be king of anywhere. I love my job. I worked really hard to get where I am and I don’t want to change that.’
‘I want to make you happy, Master,’ Mohinder pouts. ‘What use am I if not to make you wishes come true?’
‘You made me pretty happy last night,’ Matt says, smiling shyly. ‘Tonight I’m going to see if I can make you happy.’
‘I am happy that you are my master.’
‘Suck up,’ Matt says cheerfully. ‘What are you going to do today?’
Mohinder gives a graceful shrug. ‘I will enjoy being your genie.’
‘That doesn’t sound exciting.’
‘Then I will watch the magic box as you showed me, Master, and learn about the world,’ he says primly.
Matt gives him a soft kiss. ‘Have a good day.’
‘If there are strangers ought I to conceal myself?’
‘Not on the TV. If someone comes to the door I guess. I don’t think that’s likely. Um, please don’t turn anyone into anything? Doubly for me, please.’
‘Yes, Master.’
Matt gives the security staff a vague smile as he wanders along the corridor towards the cafeteria. He can’t still be concussed, surely? But a dream wouldn’t last this long. It couldn’t, could it?’
‘What the hell is up with you?’ Commander Nathan Petrelli asks, sitting back in his chair. ‘Did you get laid last night?’
Matt carries his tray over to the table and sits down. ‘Is it that obvious?’
Nathan raises a manicured eyebrow.
‘It’s obvious that you’re dazed and disoriented,’ he says dryly. ‘They gave you a clean bill of health so I assume that it’s not down to the crash. In your case being dazed and disoriented seemed excellent signs of having gotten laid. Who was the lucky boy? I suppose he was won over by your heroic near death experience?’
‘I have no idea,’ Matt admits. ‘He’s completely out of my league.’
‘Rough night?’
‘Not bad. Really not. But… I guess odd. Really odd.’
Nathan puts down his cup and fans out his paper. ‘You want to talk about odd? Have you seen the news this morning? Crops appearing in deserts, harvests sprouting overnight, and mountains of food appearing in refugee camps. You alright, Parkman, you’ve gone a damn peculiar colour.’
‘Can… can I see the paper?’
‘Sure.’ Nathan slides it over. ‘Damn conspiracy theorists are talking about everything from aliens to damn fairies.’
‘I thought the CIA was to blame for everything?’ Matt mutters.
‘They probably are. Think of all the petty warlords who were only holding onto power because they controlled the food supply.’ Nathan grins cynically. ‘There’ll be all kinds of ructions for the next few months, you mark my words.’
‘You’re just a barrel of laughs.’
‘I’m a realist.’
‘A realist is what cynics call themselves,’ Matt suggests.
‘Cynic is what fantasists call realists,’ Nathan retorts. ‘Are you ready for mission training at ten?’
‘I just flew a mission. Unlike some.’
Nathan grins. ‘You call that flying a mission? I’ve seen better hand-eye coordination from my ma after three belts of whiskey.’
‘Nathan, three belts of whiskey is your mom’s idea of breakfast.’
‘And she still wouldn’t have flown like she was Dorothy trying to land the damn farm house.’
Matt laughs at that and takes a gulp of his coffee. ‘Obviously I’ve been picking up bad habits from you.’
‘I hope you’re not going to go all pansy PTSD on me,’ Nathan says, swirling the coffee around in his cup in a too-casual fashion.
‘I’m fine, Nathan,’ Matt says quietly. ‘I’m getting right back on the bike.’
‘Good, I’ll see you at the mission briefing then.’
Mohinder is sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed underneath him as he watches the television. Onscreen the audience are cheering as yet another woman decries a faithless lover. So many years and yet the essential nature of mankind remains the same. Although of course this man is not being castrated by the crones of the village, except perhaps in a metaphorical manner.
Glass breaks in the kitchen. Mohinder stands up quickly and turns the television off.
‘Master? Is that you?’
Wood breaks as the front door is assaulted. Mohinder hesitates but master did not ask him to defend the home. Someone opens the door to the living room.
Inside they find nothing of note but a bottle, rocking slightly.
Matt is heading for the mission briefing when someone clatters down the corridor calling his name.
‘Captain Parkman! Captain Parkman!’
Matt turns and waits for the petite blonde woman to clump over to him. She’s dressed in a smart casual suit but wearing it with the natural discomfort of someone who spends every waking moment in sweatpants and sneakers. She looks up at him from under her mop of platinum hair and gives a wavering smile.
‘Captain Parkman there’s been a change of mind,’ she says, lowering her voice. ‘Would you come with me please?’
‘I’m sorry Ma’am, who are you?’
‘Uh, Daphne,’ she says, waving an identity badge past his eyes too quickly to see.
‘I have a mission briefing so I really don’t have time for…’
‘Oh but you’re needed in the medical area. The medical chief has some tests he needs to do.’
Matt runs his fingers through his hair. ‘I don’t have time right now.’
‘It’ll be real quick.’
‘I don’t have time,’ Matt says firmly.
Daphne folds her arms across her chest. ‘Could you come tell him? Please? I’m really on the bubble Captain Parkman and if I go back there without you they’ll figure I just didn’t bother and I’ll be in so much trouble.’ She bites her lower lip. ‘Please, Captain? Just stick your head around the door and say that you’ll be back later?’
Matt blows out his cheeks and checks his watch. ‘You’ve got five minutes, okay?’
‘Thank you! It’s just through here.’
Matt follows her through a series of corridors and through a heavy door marked “Top Secret”.
‘Whoa, this isn’t the medical centre!’
‘Oh it’s um… it’s a short cut.’
‘I don’t know what your game is but I’m not playing.’ Matt turns and begins walking back the way he came. Two men emerge from the shadows and grab him from behind.
‘Do it now!’ one of the men urges.
Daphne dashes forward and covers Matt’s mouth and nose with a cloth as he struggles.
‘Wake up Captain Parkman; it’s time for you to serve your country.’
A hand slaps Matt’s face. The air is impregnated with the scent of sweet chemicals. Matt’s nose and lips are burning. He can’t move. All of these sensations assault his mind as he regains consciousness.
‘What…’
Matt opens his eyes. He’s in an unknown room filled with stark fluorescent lights slicing through the shadows. As his forehead is strapped down can see almost nothing but the ceiling. His arms, legs, and torso are all tightly strapped, making it impossible for him to move.
‘Good morning,’ says an unknown older man, looming over Matt. ‘I hope you’re feeling refreshed after your rest.’
‘My name is Captain Matthew Parkman, my serial number is…’
‘You haven’t been captured by a foreign power, Captain,’ the other man says, shaking his head. ‘I’m as American as you are although I’m a little alarmed that you think a foreign power could abduct you from the heart of NASA.’
‘What do you want?’
The other man holds up Mohinder’s bottle. ‘We want your little friend.’
Matt strains against his bonds. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Feeding all those starving people was good hearted I’m sure, but naïve. Did you think you wouldn’t attract all kinds of attention? These creatures are almost impossible to track down but you have one, in here. Fortunately my man had the sense to cork him up otherwise you and I couldn’t be having this chat.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I’ll break the bottle then, shall I? I wonder what will happen then. You had to bring his bottle with you for him to leave the island. He can’t get out of it unless someone uncorks it and you can’t do that.’
Matt licks his lips. ‘I’ll play along. What do you think is in there?’
‘A djinn of course. What we mangle into English as a genie: an evolutionary dead end capable of harnessing enormous power and transforming it into almost any way that can be thought of. Just think Captain what having this creature could do for the United States defensive capabilities. Just think what it could do for our offensive capabilities!’
‘If you were right and there were some kind of living creature in there then what right do you think any of us has to treat him like a weapon?’ Matt demands. ‘He’d be a living, breathing, intelligent person capable of his own decisions.’
‘He’s a slave, Captain. It’s in his genes. He’s not human and we have no need to afford him rights or any such nonsense. He has no real will and when you order him to become my slave he will accept the order placidly.’
Mohinder attacks the wall: kicking, thumping, scratching, and screaming.
‘Let me out! Let me out! I will never be your genie! Never! Master! Master!’
‘You think he’ll just do what you tell him?’
‘Lesser beings always respond to clear orders. I want you to order him to become my genie and grant my wishes.’
Matt shakes his head. ‘No. I won’t do that to him. You’ll have to kill me.’
‘That would’ve been my first choice but it won’t work,’ he says dryly. ‘Killing the existing master means that the genie cannot be owned by the killer. A stupid fact but the species are known for them. You must order him to be mine or I must wait until you die of natural causes, and I have no intention of waiting for that to happen.’
‘Well then you’re screwed because I’m not doing that.’ Matt tests his bonds again. ‘I don’t believe you’ll break the bottle either because that risks killing him. You’re not going to do that.’
‘Then I suppose we shall have to move to plan B,’ he sighs and snaps his fingers. ‘Bring in Captain Petrelli.’
‘Wait, what?’
Nathan is dragged into the room, struggling and dishevelled. ‘God damn it, Parkman, the next time you miss a briefing I’m not coming looking for you.’
‘Agree to order the genie to be mine or he dies.’
Nathan stops struggling. ‘What? A genie? Does someone want to tell me when I woke up in a damn sitcom?’
‘All right,’ Matt says quietly. ‘Uncork the bottle, I’ll do it.’
‘If you do not order the genie to be mine then you and Captain Petrelli will die, of that you may be certain.’
‘You have my word.’
The cork is wrenched from the bottle and Mohinder appears instantly. The henchmen cock their guns at Matt and Nathan menacingly.
‘Mohinder wait!’ Matt says quickly. ‘
‘Master are you alright?’ Mohinder begs.
‘I don’t fucking believe it,’ Nathan mutters.
Matt takes a deep breath. ‘Mohinder, do you remember we were talking about how other genies fulfilled their master’s wishes? Well, I… this man is your new master and you should obey his wishes as any traditional genie would.’
Mohinder draws himself and turns to the other man. ‘Master, what is your wish?’
‘I don’t trust you. Something simple and safe. Make me rich.’
Mohinder smiles sweetly and the other man turns into solid gold.
‘Get rid of the guns!’ Matt shouts. ‘Quick! Please!’
In a silent moment the henchmen are gone and Nathan collapses back against the wall.
‘A genie?’ he demands. ‘Where the hell did you get a genie? Do you have a mermaid as well?’
‘Would someone please untie me?’ Matt asks wearily.
Mohinder leans over him and helps him sit up. ‘I am so sorry Master, so very sorry, I should not have hidden in my bottle but defended the home and then come to you.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Matt pats his hand. ‘But I guess this means I’m not your master anymore. I gave you away.’
‘Not by choice,’ Mohinder says stoutly. ‘He is gone now.’ He kisses Matt softly. ‘Do you not wish to be my master? I promise not to turn you into gold.’
‘Don’t mind me, I’ll just lie over here in a heap,’ Nathan grumbles. ‘God knows how we’re going to explain this one.’
‘We’ll think of something,’ Matt says, and kisses Mohinder tenderly.
The End
Pairing: Matt/Mohinder
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Random evil scientists
Word Count: Approximately 4500
Authors Note:
leadaisy who prompted: After cash landing his capsule on a deserted beach, Astronaut Captain Matt Parkman finds a genie bottle and gives it a rub :P The genie, Mohinder, pops out and instantly falls in love with Matt and is grateful for his new Master.However, back at NASA one of the evil scientist people find out about Genie!Mohinder and capture him in his bottle. They take Captain Parkman hostage and tie him up to get information from him. Unable to get out of his bottle, Genie!Mohinder can’t free his Master and the tied up Captain can’t free the genie. What will become of our heroes?
Alarms pulse amber, red, and purple as sirens scream and shred the air. The capsule tumbles dreamily from the sky turning over and over like a paper plane toyed with by the breeze. Showers of sparks trail like a bridal train as the capsule drifts down towards the tranquil sand and the sullen sea surrounding it. As the sea draws near the pilot listens to the music of disaster and finds a different beat.
In the warm and drowsy confines of his comfortable prison the genie awakes at the terrible percussion. The genie runs across the floor and presses his tiny ear to the smooth surface. He listens to the petulant tide as it rides up the beach, the distant calls of circling seabirds, and finally he hears a human voice. He closes his eyes and wishes that there were a god of genies to whom he could pray that he will soon be owned again.
Captain Parkman disentangles himself from the loving embrace of the slowly sinking capsule and wades through the sluggish waves to reach the beach. His head rings with the echoes of the sirens and ghostly afterimages of the alarms: portents he has been trained to keep in their place when working but which will haunt his dreams. He drags himself up to the beach and sinks to his knees in the soft, white sand. He’s too exhausted, too elated, too worn, and too terrified to do anything but pray and curse and cry.
Mohinder Suresh Thrice Blessed Genie of the Magic Pool is sure that the voice is male. There may have been deeper or more beautiful voices but no longer to Mohinder. He hears joyfully this male voice that is so close. This man he hopes to soon call master.
Matt leans back upon his heels and casts his gaze about the vista. Serene azure skies stretch down until they meet the sea without land or ships or planes to trouble it. He knows that the capsule transmitted coordinates as it came down but for now and the foreseeable future he is entirely alone. Matt shimmies from his flight suit and looks around the tiny desert island on which he finds himself. There are several stunted trees under which he can shelter and an abundance of clean, white sand, and little else. Matt traverses the entire island in a few moments with his feet sinking in the soft sand until, to his surprise, he strikes glass.
The width and breath of Mohinder’s world is shaken as the bottle is pried from its resting place of a hundred years. He clings to the curved wall of darkened glass and wishes, and wishes that the bottle be opened. The wishes of genies are unheard and unanswered. They who grant wishes must also realise their own dreams and desires while hiding them from their owners. After a hundred years of loneliness Mohinder is minded to be pliant and personable but please, oh please, let his new master be kind.
The bottle in Matt’s hands is rimed with sand and age. The smoky glass warms his hands and the worn engraving shimmers in the sun. Matt pries off the lid and then, before he completes his thought, he rubs a little rime from the bottle the better to read the engraved words. He rubs a little sand away and then a little more and then, quite at once, there is another man stood in front of him.
‘Jesus!’
‘Oh no, he was much taller than I am and his hair was redder…’
The air falls still as they stand silently before Mohinder tries again with the words he hasn’t spoken in a hundred years.
‘Your wish is my command, Master. I am Mohinder, the genie of the bottle and I am yours to command.’
Mohinder kisses his new master and drinks in the scent of his skin. Mohinder would sing to the sky if he could. A master! He has a new master; a master as handsome as the finest Arabian horse and with eyes as warm as a kiss. His clothing is odd to Mohinder’s eyes but he looks strong and well fed. Perhaps he is rich then. Mohinder would hope not; he would sooner be a poor man’s slave than a rich man’s plaything. A slave is needed and would not be discarded at a whim.
‘I’m sorry. I think I bumped my head,’ Matt says weakly.
‘Sit down, Master, please?’ Mohinder says solicitously. ‘I will take care of you.’
Matt sinks down but finds instead of the sand that he is settling onto something firm but comfortable.
‘Uh… where did this chair come from?’
‘I made it for you, Master,’ Mohinder says, kneeling in from of him. ‘How may I make you happy?’
Matt focuses his confused gaze on the beautiful man in front of him. ‘I think I’m concussed. I’m hallucinating.’
‘Oh, did you hurt your head, Master? Shall I make ice to soothe it?’
‘I knew before I went up in the capsule that I might not come back. Blowing up on the launch pad would be embarrassing, dying during flight would’ve been less than great but… it happens, but surviving the crash and then dying of a concussion? I’ll never live that down.’ He smiles vaguely. ‘Damn but you’re gorgeous. If you’re imaginary then my imagination is far nicer to me than I deserve.’
Mohinder grins a bright and beautiful smile. Master thinks he’s gorgeous! His master thinks he’s gorgeous! His master.
‘You are not dying, Master, and I am not a false vision.’ Mohinder presses his hand to Matt’s forehead.
‘There now, do you not feel better?’
‘Maybe it’s an intracranial bleed. Is one of my pupils bigger than the other?’
‘Your eyes are perfect, Master,’ Mohinder promises, gazing up at Matt adoringly. He holds up a small mirror for Matt to look into.
‘Helpful sort aren’t you?’ Matt says blearily. ‘I must’ve really banged my head. I don’t remember.’
‘What may I do to make you happy, Master?’
‘Can you make a ship appear to rescue me? Because that’d be amazing.’ Matt rests his chin in his palm as he gazes at the genie. ‘What did you say your name was?’
‘My name is Mohinder, Master, I am your genie. Master, the ship approaches. Should I go into my bottle that you may bring me with you?’
‘What?’ Matt lifts his gaze and finds a ship suddenly heaving against the stubborn waves.
‘Master, other men might try to steal me from you,’ Mohinder says urgently. ‘Will you not take the bottle with you so I might accompany you?’
Matt stands up as a boat floats free from the ship. There’s no need to be rude, he thinks, even to figments of my imagination. So he picks up the bottle and holds it fast.
‘I won’t let it out of my sight.’
Mohinder smiles and kisses, kisses, kisses him. When Matt opens his eyes once more the genie is nowhere to be seen. But he keeps his word and takes the bottle with him as he climbs into the boat.
The doctor examines Matt thoroughly and conscientiously, checking his scalp, head, and eyes thrice and proclaiming each time that he is healthy. This would be reassuring were it not for the silent and weighty presence of the genie’s bottle. It is about a foot high and at its base about eight inches across. The glass is thick and solid, no flimsy receptacle this. The glass is deep green, too dark to see through, and covered in engravings of birds, beasts, and beautiful creatures for which Matt has no name. Nothing that Matt can see engraved bears a resemblance to the young genie in his skimpy, silken trousers and bare chest. A glory of the imagination he didn’t think he had. What a shame, he thinks, we cannot record hallucinations forever. But a treacherous part of him, the part that pokes him in the back and tells him he’s been bad, wonders why he would conjure a man so apparently submissive. He does not dare to uncork the bottle and rub it, for fear the genie will appear, or for fear of a crueller fate: that he does not. Instead he sketches the smiling face as well as he is able and then sleeps and dreams instead.
That night as the slumbering ship swoops and dives through the tumultuous sea, the bottle is knocked upon the floor. It lands with an inelegant thud but fails to awaken Matt from his slumbers. As it rolls over the cracked and broken backed floorboards the cork is caught on the corner of the desk, and is pulled loose.
A genie must appear when their lamp or ring or bottle is rubbed by human hand. All children know this. What is not so widely known is that, provided their egress is not impeded, genies may come and go from their places of power as they will.
Mohinder stretches in the darkness and smiles in the moonlight. He has not been left, abandoned on the island, and he has not been paraded in front of jackals and unworthy men. His master remains his master. His master is worthy of him. His master is dozing on the cot. A tiny, uncomfortable thing entirely unsuitable for the comfort of his master. His master is dreaming, Mohinder can see, of something vast and nameless and terrible.
Matt’s nightmare dissolves into warmth as fingertips tease their way across his flesh and a tongue tastes the salt of his skin. He finds himself easing onto his back as lips lick down his stomach and nails graze lightly at his sides.
‘What…’ he looks down as Mohinder takes him into his mouth. ‘Oh oh…’
Mohinder looks up and smiles beatifically.
Briefing, debriefing, examinations, tests, interviews: Matt endures them all with weary acquiescence and mounting anxiety to reach home and open the bottle. He carries it with him throughout them all, clutched in his hand or tucked under an armpit, refusing to let it out of his sight. When he finally reaches his home he puts it carefully on the floor, removes the cork, and wonders what he hopes for.
‘Boo!’ Mohinder whispers from behind him. ‘Hello Master.’ He steps forward and kisses Matt. ‘Thank you for bringing me home with you.’
‘Um, you’re welcome. It wasn’t exactly a big thing…’ Matt shrugs. ‘I’m not sure what the etiquette is here. I’ve never met a genie before. Is it rude to ask if you’re a hallucination? Although why you’d know when I don’t know…’
‘I am not a… hallucination, Master, I am your genie. What is your wish?’
‘Uh… I don’t really have any.’ Matt scratches his head. ‘Do you eat? I thought maybe we could have a nice meal and you can… tell me all about being a genie.’
‘You wish to eat with me, Master? I’m your slave!’
‘Whoa, no. No. There’s no… slavery going on,’ Matt says more sharply than he means. ‘That’s not the way things work in this country. We don’t have slaves. We used to have slaves but that was before my family came over here so, you know, we never had slaves.’
‘But you are my Master and I am your genie!’ Mohinder wails.
‘Hey, come on.’ Matt awkwardly pulls Mohinder into his arms and pats his back. ‘I don’t have a problem with… role play type things, and if you want to call me master, well okay. But if you’re a genie then really you’re the one with all the power.’
Mohinder breathes in the subtle scent of Matt’s skin and his body burns in the heat of him. ‘I have no power, Master.’
‘You’re a genie,’ Matt laughs. ‘You can do all kinds of magic. I’m glad you don’t seem to be one of those genies who deliberately misinterprets every wish into something horrific. You’re not, are you?’
‘Not with a kind and caring master such as you,’ Mohinder says sweetly. ‘Master, what is the purpose of this stance?’
Matt, who is still considering Mohinder’s choice of caveat, laughs a little. ‘It’s a hug. A cuddle. Don’t you do this?’
‘Not before.’ Mohinder rests his head on Matt’s shoulder. ‘It feels pleasant. Ought I to be doing something?’
‘Not really,’ Matt says giving Mohinder a squeeze and letting him go.
‘I liked that,’ he says with twinkling eyes, ‘yet I enjoyed last night the best.’
‘I was asleep,’ Matt protests weakly. ‘It was a little naughty.’
‘Master could have said “no” or “stop” at any moment. I had not covered his mouth or similar.’
Matt finds his words catching in his mouth. ‘Well that’s… that’s true.’
‘Did Master not enjoy himself?’ Mohinder asks, batting his eyes.
‘Yeah, I mean, yeah it was great.’
Mohinder smiles and kisses Matt’s forehead. ‘I shall prepare a feast for us then, as you wished.’
‘It doesn’t have to be a feast,’ Matt says meekly. ‘There are people starving in Africa.’
Mohinder raises his eyebrows. ‘Persons starving elsewhere means that Master cannot feast?’
‘No I… I guess I’d feel guilty. I know that doesn’t make much sense.’
Mohinder considers this for a moment. Then he folds his arms and blinks. ‘There,’ he says with a satisfied smile, ‘now Master has no cause for guilt.’
‘Oh God, what did you do? You didn’t kill a bunch of people did you?’
‘I do not think that would reduce your feelings of guilt.’ Mohinder kisses him. ‘Trust me. Now you may feast happily.’
‘What did you do? Should I be scared?’
‘I am your genie, Master. It is my purpose to make your happy. You need never be scared of me,’ Mohinder promises.
In the early morning light of the yawning sun, Mohinder sits cross-legged upon the bed and watches Matt dress.
‘Master, why do you not return to bed and enjoy me?’
Matt’s cheeks flush cherry red. ‘I have to go to work.’
‘Why? I could make you king of the country. I could make you the king of any country.’
Matt turns and smiles at the genie. ‘I don’t want to be king of anywhere. I love my job. I worked really hard to get where I am and I don’t want to change that.’
‘I want to make you happy, Master,’ Mohinder pouts. ‘What use am I if not to make you wishes come true?’
‘You made me pretty happy last night,’ Matt says, smiling shyly. ‘Tonight I’m going to see if I can make you happy.’
‘I am happy that you are my master.’
‘Suck up,’ Matt says cheerfully. ‘What are you going to do today?’
Mohinder gives a graceful shrug. ‘I will enjoy being your genie.’
‘That doesn’t sound exciting.’
‘Then I will watch the magic box as you showed me, Master, and learn about the world,’ he says primly.
Matt gives him a soft kiss. ‘Have a good day.’
‘If there are strangers ought I to conceal myself?’
‘Not on the TV. If someone comes to the door I guess. I don’t think that’s likely. Um, please don’t turn anyone into anything? Doubly for me, please.’
‘Yes, Master.’
Matt gives the security staff a vague smile as he wanders along the corridor towards the cafeteria. He can’t still be concussed, surely? But a dream wouldn’t last this long. It couldn’t, could it?’
‘What the hell is up with you?’ Commander Nathan Petrelli asks, sitting back in his chair. ‘Did you get laid last night?’
Matt carries his tray over to the table and sits down. ‘Is it that obvious?’
Nathan raises a manicured eyebrow.
‘It’s obvious that you’re dazed and disoriented,’ he says dryly. ‘They gave you a clean bill of health so I assume that it’s not down to the crash. In your case being dazed and disoriented seemed excellent signs of having gotten laid. Who was the lucky boy? I suppose he was won over by your heroic near death experience?’
‘I have no idea,’ Matt admits. ‘He’s completely out of my league.’
‘Rough night?’
‘Not bad. Really not. But… I guess odd. Really odd.’
Nathan puts down his cup and fans out his paper. ‘You want to talk about odd? Have you seen the news this morning? Crops appearing in deserts, harvests sprouting overnight, and mountains of food appearing in refugee camps. You alright, Parkman, you’ve gone a damn peculiar colour.’
‘Can… can I see the paper?’
‘Sure.’ Nathan slides it over. ‘Damn conspiracy theorists are talking about everything from aliens to damn fairies.’
‘I thought the CIA was to blame for everything?’ Matt mutters.
‘They probably are. Think of all the petty warlords who were only holding onto power because they controlled the food supply.’ Nathan grins cynically. ‘There’ll be all kinds of ructions for the next few months, you mark my words.’
‘You’re just a barrel of laughs.’
‘I’m a realist.’
‘A realist is what cynics call themselves,’ Matt suggests.
‘Cynic is what fantasists call realists,’ Nathan retorts. ‘Are you ready for mission training at ten?’
‘I just flew a mission. Unlike some.’
Nathan grins. ‘You call that flying a mission? I’ve seen better hand-eye coordination from my ma after three belts of whiskey.’
‘Nathan, three belts of whiskey is your mom’s idea of breakfast.’
‘And she still wouldn’t have flown like she was Dorothy trying to land the damn farm house.’
Matt laughs at that and takes a gulp of his coffee. ‘Obviously I’ve been picking up bad habits from you.’
‘I hope you’re not going to go all pansy PTSD on me,’ Nathan says, swirling the coffee around in his cup in a too-casual fashion.
‘I’m fine, Nathan,’ Matt says quietly. ‘I’m getting right back on the bike.’
‘Good, I’ll see you at the mission briefing then.’
Mohinder is sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed underneath him as he watches the television. Onscreen the audience are cheering as yet another woman decries a faithless lover. So many years and yet the essential nature of mankind remains the same. Although of course this man is not being castrated by the crones of the village, except perhaps in a metaphorical manner.
Glass breaks in the kitchen. Mohinder stands up quickly and turns the television off.
‘Master? Is that you?’
Wood breaks as the front door is assaulted. Mohinder hesitates but master did not ask him to defend the home. Someone opens the door to the living room.
Inside they find nothing of note but a bottle, rocking slightly.
Matt is heading for the mission briefing when someone clatters down the corridor calling his name.
‘Captain Parkman! Captain Parkman!’
Matt turns and waits for the petite blonde woman to clump over to him. She’s dressed in a smart casual suit but wearing it with the natural discomfort of someone who spends every waking moment in sweatpants and sneakers. She looks up at him from under her mop of platinum hair and gives a wavering smile.
‘Captain Parkman there’s been a change of mind,’ she says, lowering her voice. ‘Would you come with me please?’
‘I’m sorry Ma’am, who are you?’
‘Uh, Daphne,’ she says, waving an identity badge past his eyes too quickly to see.
‘I have a mission briefing so I really don’t have time for…’
‘Oh but you’re needed in the medical area. The medical chief has some tests he needs to do.’
Matt runs his fingers through his hair. ‘I don’t have time right now.’
‘It’ll be real quick.’
‘I don’t have time,’ Matt says firmly.
Daphne folds her arms across her chest. ‘Could you come tell him? Please? I’m really on the bubble Captain Parkman and if I go back there without you they’ll figure I just didn’t bother and I’ll be in so much trouble.’ She bites her lower lip. ‘Please, Captain? Just stick your head around the door and say that you’ll be back later?’
Matt blows out his cheeks and checks his watch. ‘You’ve got five minutes, okay?’
‘Thank you! It’s just through here.’
Matt follows her through a series of corridors and through a heavy door marked “Top Secret”.
‘Whoa, this isn’t the medical centre!’
‘Oh it’s um… it’s a short cut.’
‘I don’t know what your game is but I’m not playing.’ Matt turns and begins walking back the way he came. Two men emerge from the shadows and grab him from behind.
‘Do it now!’ one of the men urges.
Daphne dashes forward and covers Matt’s mouth and nose with a cloth as he struggles.
‘Wake up Captain Parkman; it’s time for you to serve your country.’
A hand slaps Matt’s face. The air is impregnated with the scent of sweet chemicals. Matt’s nose and lips are burning. He can’t move. All of these sensations assault his mind as he regains consciousness.
‘What…’
Matt opens his eyes. He’s in an unknown room filled with stark fluorescent lights slicing through the shadows. As his forehead is strapped down can see almost nothing but the ceiling. His arms, legs, and torso are all tightly strapped, making it impossible for him to move.
‘Good morning,’ says an unknown older man, looming over Matt. ‘I hope you’re feeling refreshed after your rest.’
‘My name is Captain Matthew Parkman, my serial number is…’
‘You haven’t been captured by a foreign power, Captain,’ the other man says, shaking his head. ‘I’m as American as you are although I’m a little alarmed that you think a foreign power could abduct you from the heart of NASA.’
‘What do you want?’
The other man holds up Mohinder’s bottle. ‘We want your little friend.’
Matt strains against his bonds. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Feeding all those starving people was good hearted I’m sure, but naïve. Did you think you wouldn’t attract all kinds of attention? These creatures are almost impossible to track down but you have one, in here. Fortunately my man had the sense to cork him up otherwise you and I couldn’t be having this chat.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I’ll break the bottle then, shall I? I wonder what will happen then. You had to bring his bottle with you for him to leave the island. He can’t get out of it unless someone uncorks it and you can’t do that.’
Matt licks his lips. ‘I’ll play along. What do you think is in there?’
‘A djinn of course. What we mangle into English as a genie: an evolutionary dead end capable of harnessing enormous power and transforming it into almost any way that can be thought of. Just think Captain what having this creature could do for the United States defensive capabilities. Just think what it could do for our offensive capabilities!’
‘If you were right and there were some kind of living creature in there then what right do you think any of us has to treat him like a weapon?’ Matt demands. ‘He’d be a living, breathing, intelligent person capable of his own decisions.’
‘He’s a slave, Captain. It’s in his genes. He’s not human and we have no need to afford him rights or any such nonsense. He has no real will and when you order him to become my slave he will accept the order placidly.’
Mohinder attacks the wall: kicking, thumping, scratching, and screaming.
‘Let me out! Let me out! I will never be your genie! Never! Master! Master!’
‘You think he’ll just do what you tell him?’
‘Lesser beings always respond to clear orders. I want you to order him to become my genie and grant my wishes.’
Matt shakes his head. ‘No. I won’t do that to him. You’ll have to kill me.’
‘That would’ve been my first choice but it won’t work,’ he says dryly. ‘Killing the existing master means that the genie cannot be owned by the killer. A stupid fact but the species are known for them. You must order him to be mine or I must wait until you die of natural causes, and I have no intention of waiting for that to happen.’
‘Well then you’re screwed because I’m not doing that.’ Matt tests his bonds again. ‘I don’t believe you’ll break the bottle either because that risks killing him. You’re not going to do that.’
‘Then I suppose we shall have to move to plan B,’ he sighs and snaps his fingers. ‘Bring in Captain Petrelli.’
‘Wait, what?’
Nathan is dragged into the room, struggling and dishevelled. ‘God damn it, Parkman, the next time you miss a briefing I’m not coming looking for you.’
‘Agree to order the genie to be mine or he dies.’
Nathan stops struggling. ‘What? A genie? Does someone want to tell me when I woke up in a damn sitcom?’
‘All right,’ Matt says quietly. ‘Uncork the bottle, I’ll do it.’
‘If you do not order the genie to be mine then you and Captain Petrelli will die, of that you may be certain.’
‘You have my word.’
The cork is wrenched from the bottle and Mohinder appears instantly. The henchmen cock their guns at Matt and Nathan menacingly.
‘Mohinder wait!’ Matt says quickly. ‘
‘Master are you alright?’ Mohinder begs.
‘I don’t fucking believe it,’ Nathan mutters.
Matt takes a deep breath. ‘Mohinder, do you remember we were talking about how other genies fulfilled their master’s wishes? Well, I… this man is your new master and you should obey his wishes as any traditional genie would.’
Mohinder draws himself and turns to the other man. ‘Master, what is your wish?’
‘I don’t trust you. Something simple and safe. Make me rich.’
Mohinder smiles sweetly and the other man turns into solid gold.
‘Get rid of the guns!’ Matt shouts. ‘Quick! Please!’
In a silent moment the henchmen are gone and Nathan collapses back against the wall.
‘A genie?’ he demands. ‘Where the hell did you get a genie? Do you have a mermaid as well?’
‘Would someone please untie me?’ Matt asks wearily.
Mohinder leans over him and helps him sit up. ‘I am so sorry Master, so very sorry, I should not have hidden in my bottle but defended the home and then come to you.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Matt pats his hand. ‘But I guess this means I’m not your master anymore. I gave you away.’
‘Not by choice,’ Mohinder says stoutly. ‘He is gone now.’ He kisses Matt softly. ‘Do you not wish to be my master? I promise not to turn you into gold.’
‘Don’t mind me, I’ll just lie over here in a heap,’ Nathan grumbles. ‘God knows how we’re going to explain this one.’
‘We’ll think of something,’ Matt says, and kisses Mohinder tenderly.
The End
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no subject
Date: 2011-11-05 03:34 am (UTC)Loved when Matt told Mohinder that he was naughty...heehee....loved that :P And when he turned red after Mohinder told him to come back to bed and enjoy him....nnnfff!!
Cleaver having Mohinder help the starving people in Africa to get the baddies on to him, he did it all for his Matt.
Reading this fic made me smile, cute moments with Matt being adorable and Mohinder being a naughty little minx! Loved it! <333
no subject
Date: 2011-11-05 11:05 am (UTC)Thanks so much for the awesome prompt :D I had a lot of fun writing it.
<333
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Date: 2011-11-05 04:26 pm (UTC)I especially love the scene where Mohinder sneaks out of his bottle that first night on the ship to have his wicked way with a sleeping Matt. Best wakeup ever. :D And your Nathan voice was great as always--love that you used him to be Matt's confidante.
You really, really did a great job and I love you for writing this! Reading it was so much fun :D:D:D
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Date: 2011-11-07 06:28 pm (UTC)I'm so glad that you enjoyed it :D I didn't want to ruin it for you. It's a really fun scenario to play with although as usual I got a little distracted with the power imbalance :P
<333
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Date: 2011-11-07 03:47 pm (UTC)Sorry I'm just now getting around to reading and commenting but this weekend was crazy.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-07 06:35 pm (UTC)No worries :) I always look forward to your comments.